


Save for Twilight

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the darkest hour, there's hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save for Twilight

Blake had forgotten how slow death could be. It wasn't always an explosion of blood and gore, a surprised gasp, a sudden realization of betrayal. Sometimes, death took years to wear down a body, to end a life.

That is what the Federation condemned him to, him and Avon. Once the Federation realized who they had, they forgot about trials and propaganda, and shipped them off to obscurity.

Shipped them off to Ursa Major.

He slid closer to Avon, nuzzling the back of his neck until Avon shifted around and wiggled close. Avon's skin (it felt like crepe-paper) was stretched painfully over his bones-- death was eating away at him from the inside. Blake clutched him, burying his face in Avon's hair.

Avon gave a soft sound of protest and Blake relaxed his grip.

"Are you trying to kill me, Blake?" His voice was a whisper, thin and pained.

Blake almost laughed. "Go back to sleep. We don't have to be out of bed for another hour."

"I--" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a coughing fit. Blake held him while his body shook and he gasped for breath in between coughs. When it was over, Avon was shaking with fatigue, his body damp with sweat.

Blake wiped Avon's mouth with his sleeve and tried not to look concerned.

"Don't look like that. I'm not dead yet." Avon pressed against Blake, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, wheezing softly.

Blake stroked Avon's back, closed his eyes, and pretended they were anywhere else.

*****

Blake wakes to pain blaring up from his belly, consuming him, pounding like a drum, shaking his bones.

"Easy, Blake. It's all right."

Hands stroke his hair and he opens his eyes: Avon. He tries to speak but Avon shakes his head.

"Don't. They'll be here with your pain meds soon." Avon looks away and whispers, "We're Federation prisoners. I'm sorry, Blake, but your people are dead.

And yours? he wants to ask.

Even softer, "Mine as well."

Blake's eyelids are suddenly too heavy and he closes them. The pain continues to pound his body and instead of fighting it, he gives in.

*****

Every few months the Federation would send new prisoners to the colony, and Blake would marvel at the life in their eyes, their clean skin, the strength of their voices. Day after day, he would watch them transform into living corpses and tell himself that what he felt was not satisfaction.

But he knew. He knew he had been there too long, that the dust had begun to eat away more than just his lungs-- it was making him something less than human. He couldn't, no, he couldn't allow that, not for himself and not for Avon.

He spat as much of the grit from his mouth as he could and watched.

And waited.

*****

Avon always knows when it hurts. When the pain becomes too much to bear. It is a comfort for Blake. A comfort to know that when the pain in his belly thrums through him and makes his bones shatter, Avon is there to hold him, to whisper softly into his ear.

And after, when he is in a million pieces, Avon will kiss him and stroke him and keep him warm.

*****

Avon was coughing again. Blake could hear the echoes, deep and wet and painful, bounce off the cave walls. He itched to go to Avon, but he knew that would only make matters worse. The guards would only separate them, perhaps put Blake back in the 'The Box'-- a tiny, dark room, barely large enough to shift positions. Last time, they left him in there for three days.

He had left Avon alone for three days.

He forced his muscles to move. Forced himself to dig as he breathed in the cold, heavy air. The feel of metal hitting rock shook him. It made his teeth rattle and his bones shiver underneath his skin. He struck harder, faster-- he didn't care if he shattered.

Then he felt a hand on his arm and he turned and growled.

The other prisoner pulled away and took a few steps back. "Easy, Blake. I'm not one of them."

Blake glared at him.

"If you keep that up you'll bring the wall down on us." He smiled. "And you don't want to do that."

"And why not?"

The prisoner's smile widens. "Because I have a secret. Meet me in the lav five minutes before lunch ends."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll keep my secret."

*****

It's dark, too dark. And at first, it's all right, he is calm. Then the small annoyances begin: his back aches, so he shifts, but that gives his right leg cramp, so he shifts again, and that makes his left hand fall asleep. And he continues shifting and in the eighteenth hour (or so the guards will tell him later), he begins to shout.

And the shouts become screams. And the screams become pounding.

And on third day, the pounding stops. He places his hands over his ears, and he sobs, he pleads... he begs.

When the guards finally let him out, he cries with relief.

*****

Sneaking back into camp was as easy as sneaking out. The guard shifts never changed, and everyone knew which guards would look the other way. The guards didn't care; no one left the camps except to die, and at least that way they didn't have to dispose of the body.

Blake was still careful, hiding in the shadows until the guard looked away. Creeping back into his own prison-- if it wasn't so horrific, he would have laughed.

As he neared the prisoners' quarters, he spied a lean, pale figure standing outside the doorway. He smiled and walked a bit faster-- Avon was frowning.

"Where the hell have you been?" Avon whispered. "When you didn't show up for dinner, the guards started asking questions. I told them I didn't know, but Martins said he saw you sneak away with one of the new prisoners."

Blake shrugged and looked around very casually. "Not here."

Avon's face went blank and he said, in an amused tone, "You're not thinking about leaving me for another man, are you, Blake?"

He reached out and placed his hands on Avon's shoulders-- he could feel the tension that belied his tone. "Of course not."

Avon clenched his hands. "No one would fault you."

Blake leaned over and brushed his lips to Avon's. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Then--"

"Not here," he replied softly. He gave Avon another kiss, then dragged him into the living quarters. He took up their bedding and led Avon into a dark corner of the room for privacy.

Avon slid under the covers and pressed himself against Blake's body.. "I thought you wanted to tell me where you were. Not--"

Blake could see the blush, even in the dark, and he smiled. "I am going to tell you. I just don't want the others to hear."

Avon nodded and looked at him expectantly.

He pulled the blanket up over their heads, then brought his mouth close to Avon's ear. "I don't want you to say anything until after I finish speaking," he whispered. "Jefferies has been sneaking out of camp since he first got here. And he found something, about seven kilometers south of here. Avon, he found a ship."

"What--" Avon's words were cut off by Blake's hand.

"Not until after I finish." Blake hugged him. "It's well hidden, that's why the guards never found it. It's in some sort of underground bunker. You'll like this, it's a luxury class ship. Makes sense, I suppose."

"How so?"

"Ursa Major used to be a pleasure planet before the Federation found out that it had deposits of Trillium ore." He could feel Avon tense. "What it is?"

"You fool. You... you idiot," Avon whispered harshly. Then without another word, he wrenched himself out of Blake's embrace and scrambled to his feet. Before Blake could stop him, he was already out the door.

"Oi, Blake! What's wrong? Problems getting it up?" There was a smattering of laughter.

"Go to hell, Frederick!"

"Too late, I'm already there."

Blake got to his feet and followed Avon. For a moment, he wasn't sure where to go, then he heard coughing. He followed the sound. Avon was sitting up against the box-- he was the only one Blake knew who could stand to be near it. Blake forced himself not to shudder, sat next to Avon and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Don't... touch me, " he gasped out.

Blake ignored the comment and stroked his hair. When the coughing died away, he asked him, "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

"You're an idiot, Blake. You're a--"

"We've already covered that, Avon. Try again."

"That could have been a trap," he said, through clenched teeth. "Did you ever consider that? It could still be a trap!"

"It's not. Avon, the onboard computer is fried. No one could fix it. No one but you."

"It sounds like a trap to me."

Blake shook his head. "It's not. He would have told me otherwise."

"Why? Because he's a good and honest man?"

"No." Blake looked up and stared at the distant stars. He wondered if one of them was Earth. "Because he might have told me in order to keep me from killing him."

Avon made a soft noise.

"He might have told others. The guards might have found out." He looked at Avon. "This could be our only chance."

"You're a fool, Blake," he whispered.

"So you've said."

Avon took Blake's face in his hands and kissed him hard.

Blake tasted blood on Avon's lips.

*****

They whisper in the dark.

"We have to escape."

"There's nothing we can do, Blake."

"Once we're on Ursa Major, it'll be too late."

Avon sighs. " We're already on Ursa Major."

"No, Avon, we can't." He clutches at Avon's arms.

"Shh, you're ill. It was the box, It was just the box."

"NO!" Blake curls into a ball. He can feel the pain thrumming through him.

*****

"I don't want to do this."

Blake continued to wrap Avon's body in the blankets. "We have to hurry. The guards will be by to see what's keeping us."

"Blake--"

"Avon, it's the only way. Now act dead."

Avon glared at him one more time, before Blake covered his face. Then Blake lifted Avon into his arms and started out the door.

It surprised him how easy it was to carry Avon-- he was so thin. If this didn't work, then in a few months fiction would become fact. Blake clutched Avon tightly. As he neared the edge of the compound, a guard yelled for him to stop. For one panicked second, he thought about running. Instead, he stopped and turned.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"He's dead." Blake was surprised to hear how flat his voice was, how devoid of emotion. "I went to wake him, to bring him to the mine, but he wouldn't wake. I have to bury him."

The guard hesitated.

"Do you want to see him?" he said, hysteria creeping into his voice. "Do you want to see how he drowned in his own blood?"

The guard took a step back, and after a considering look, turned his back.

Blake sobbed in relief and resumed his trek out of the camp.

When they were far enough away, Blake found an outcropping of rocks and lay Avon behind them. Avon pulled away the blanket, glared once again, opened his mouth, then stopped.

"You're shaking," he whispered.

Blake looked down at his hands. So he was. "We have a long way to go. We should... we..."

"In a moment." Avon took his hands and squeezed them gently. "In just a moment."

*****

Avon feeds him as if he were a child, spoonfeeding him gruel, wiping up the bit that doesn't quite make it into his mouth. "Moffe heard the guards talking. They're going to put you back to work tomorrow."

"I'm not surprised. I'm their best worker, breakdown or not."

Avon coughs. "You're still weak."

Blake shakes his head. "I'm fine. Or as fine as I'm going to be. That's a nasty cough."

"It's nothing." Avon feeds him another spoonful. Then he says, softly, "They think we're lovers. The guards and the other prisoners."

He shrugs. "Does it matter what they think?"

"Are we?"

"If I said yes, would it change anything between us? Would it if I said no?"

*****

It was still light when the made it to the underground bunker. Blake pulled out one of the small torches they used while mining and led Avon into the ship.

Avon stared at the onboard computer and began poking around. "Shine the light there. No, a little more to the right. Yes."

"Well, what do you think?"

Avon sighed and looked at him sadly. "Blake, even if I had the tools, the parts-- it's too much."

"Avon, no, we can fix this ship. We--"

"No! Damn it, Blake. Not this time. I knew it was a loss even before I saw the ship." He grabbed Blake by the arms and shook him. "It's over. It's done. I have no tools, no spare parts. We don't even have food and water!"

"So you want to give up? Is that what you're telling me?"

"I'm telling you that you have to face the situation. Even if I did have what I needed, it would take months to fix this ship." Avon's fingers dug into his arms. "I don't have months. You know I don't have months."

"No," he whispered.

"Yes." Avon pushed him away, a disgusted look on his face. "You can't save me. No matter how much you want to."

"Avon, please. We can do this. We can get this ship running again. We'll get it running and..."

"And maneuver past the planet's defenses in a luxury cruiser? You're insane."

"No, I'm not." Blake stroked Avon's face. "I know we can do this. And even if we can't, isn't it better?"

Avon snorted softly.

"It is. You know it is. Even if we die here, right here, or out there, trying to escape their defenses, isn't it better than rotting away from the inside?"

"You're a fool," Avon said and looked away.

"You say that far too often for me to believe you." He hugged Avon, and after a moment, he was hugged in return.

"I need to look for tools." Avon pushed away. " Make yourself useful and see if you can find potable water and food."

"Yes, Avon." Blake smiled and, for the first time in a long time, there was no pain.


End file.
